


Hit The Showers

by ZombieBabs



Category: The Black Tapes Podcast
Genre: F/M, Gratuitous Smut, Locker Room, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-10
Updated: 2016-05-10
Packaged: 2018-06-07 12:30:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6804088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZombieBabs/pseuds/ZombieBabs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He pushes back the curtain of the locker room shower stall, a towel wrapped around his waist. </p>
<p>He is not alone.</p>
<p>"You've certainly got a knack for being in places you aren't meant to be."</p>
<p>Follow-up fic to Chapter 33 of 100 Ways To Say I Love You.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hit The Showers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [remembertowrite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/remembertowrite/gifts).



> This is a follow-up to Chapter 33 of 100 Ways To Say I Love You. You may want to read that before diving into this.

He pushes back the curtain of the locker room shower stall, a towel wrapped around his waist. 

He is not alone.

"You've certainly got a knack for being in places you aren't meant to be," Strand says.

Alex Reagan looks up at him, her bottom lip caught in between her teeth.

Strand suddenly becomes very aware of his own nakedness in front of her. Clearing his throat, he adjusts his towel.

"Journalist," Alex says, as if that's all the answer he needs.

"What are you doing here?" He tries to keep the impatience out of his voice, as well as the indignation of being caught nearly nude while she stands fully clothed before him, but he can tell from her frown how unsuccessful he is.

She doesn't say anything for a long time. Just stands there, looking him up and down.

Before, at the pool, he'd been pleased when he'd caught her looking at his body. Now, he worries that she finds him wanting in some way. "Alex—"

Her hands cross in front of her, fingers toying with the hemline of her shirt. And then the fabric of it is rising up and over her head to land in a heap on the tile floor.

Strand's mouth goes dry. He catches a glimpse of skin and lace before he drags his eyes away from her, averting his gaze.

"Look at me," she says. It's a demand and a plea all in one.

Strand closes his eyes, keeps his head turned to one side. "You don't know what you're asking of me."

He's been fighting his regard for her since the day she'd come into his office, claiming to have seen a ghost. His feelings for her go beyond a simple aesthetic attraction, beyond sexual desire—something he'd thought himself incapable of since Coralee's disappearance—into something that burns in the pit of his stomach. If Alex opens this door, Strand fears that he'll be left charred and alone at the end of whatever it is between them.

Because there will be an end.

It’s not something he can go through again.

He feels her step into the space before him. His hands ache to touch, but he clenches them into fists.

"Look at me," she says.

Strand does so, forcing himself to look only at her face. But his treacherous eyes wander lower and he has to stop himself from groaning at the sight of her.

Alex had removed her jeans while he hadn't been watching. She stands there, beautiful even in the yellowed fluorescents of the locker room, wearing nothing but her underwear.

His cock twitches and he has to look away again, up and over Alex's head.

"I'm a grown-ass woman," she says. "I know what I want. And I want you. If you don't want this—if you don't want me—just say so."

Strand laughs. Not want her? How could anyone not want her? The idea is absurd. "That isn't the issue, I assure you."

"What is?"

"I'm old enough to be your _father_ , for one."

Alex waves her hand, as if he's just said something ridiculous. "I don't care about that."

"You should."

"Well, I don't. What else?"

For once, he's at a loss for words. But not for long. "It could never be just sex."

Her expression flashes from surprise to something else, something considering. "Okay."

Strand's heartbeat skips in his chest. "What?"

"Okay," she repeats. As if it's that simple.

At his dumbfounded look, Alex laughs. "Are you going to kiss me now? Or do you have another argument in there somewhere?"

"I have never loved gently," he says, urging her to understand.

Her hand comes up to cradle the curve of his jaw. She smiles. "That's okay. Neither have I."

He does kiss her then. At first, bending down to meet her lips and then lifting her up to his level, abandoning his hold on the towel. She squeaks, not having expected him to pick her up, but then her legs wrap around his waist and she's kissing him again.

The towel falls to the floor.

Alex's hands run up his chest, over his shoulders, across his biceps, trailing fire across his skin. The feel of her mouth is perfect against his own, better than he could ever predict, but now that he has her here, against him, he wants more.

He wants to touch her until she's breathless.

Wants to taste every part of her.

Wants to make her his, in every way.

Alex's back hits the wall and she hisses at the feeling of cool ceramic tiles against heated skin. She tilts her head back against the wall, giving him access to her neck. He inhales the delicate scent just below her ear, trails kisses back to the heat of her lips.

Her body arches against him when he palms her breasts through her bra.

Alex reaches behind her and without pause, unhooks the clasp. The garment ends up thrown to the floor, somewhere in the vicinity of her T-shirt.

If he were a religious man, he might thank God for the sight of her bare chest. Even so, he finds himself fully prepared to spend the rest of his life worshiping at the temple of Alex Reagan's perfect breasts.

Strand hoists her up a bit so that he can bend down to take one into his mouth. He teases her nipple with his tongue, nips at her, rolls hernipplebetween his teeth, making her gasp. He soothes the hurt with another swipe of his tongue, before running open-mouth kisses over the curve of her breast. He sucks at the skin just above her collarbone and Alex's hands grip his shoulders hard.

"Set me down," she says. "Counter."

Alex holds tight as he hefts her in his arms, setting her down where she indicates. There are sinks on either side of her and a mirror at her back. Strand can see himself dip down to kiss her again, his hands free to roam as they please. They settle on the swell of her ass and he hauls her in closer, his cockhard against her leg.

Looking him straight in the eyes, Alex smiles, reaches down between them, and takes him in her hand.

He makes an undignified noise, something akin to a whimper, and buries his face in the crook of her shoulder.

It's been so long since someone has touched him.

It's nearly too much.

It's almost certainly not enough.

"You okay?" she asks. Her hand stills.

Strand rocks into her touch, seeking more friction. "Yes."

His breath hitches when she starts to stroke him, as self-assured in this as she is in everything else. It's not long before he feels himself climbing closer to the edge.

"Not yet," he says. 

He kisses her, taking a moment to get himself back under control. One hand cradles the back of her head, tangling with the loose end of her ponytail, while the other skims the soft skin of her inner thigh.

Alex pants into the kiss when his fingers find the wet fabric of her panties. He rubs her through the delicate barrier, making her squirm. 

He loves the way she loses focus on the kiss, adores the way her head tips back against the mirror, idolizes the way her body arches under his touch.

Strand doesn't bother with removing her panties, simply moves them to the side before deftly slipping a finger into her. She gasps, head hitting the mirror so hard he’s almost afraid that she’s cracked it.

He gives her only a moment to adjust around him before he pulls out. He pushes two fingers back into her, marveling at the way her mouth falls open when he crooks them inside of her. His thumb finds her clit, circling the most sensitive part of her.

"Fuck," she says, hips bucking against his hand. "Faster. Oh fuck."

He swallows the next curse with a kiss, sloppy and mostly open-mouthed as Alex rocks in time with his fingers. He does as she asks, fingers thrusting fast and shallow, urged on by the increased volume of her cries. 

She clenches down, hard, around his fingers as she comes. 

She melts against him, moaning her satisfaction into his shoulder. 

She’s breathless and an absolute wreck and in that moment, she’s the most gorgeous thing he’s ever seen.

He’s painfully hard.

Strand nearly jumps when Alex’s hand wraps around him again, has to stop himself from rutting into her touch when she thumbs at the head of his cock, slick with pre-come. 

“Please,” she says, “I need you inside me.”

He inhales through his nose, trying to get himself under control, even as Alex continues to grip him. He manages to ask, “What about--”

“I’m on the pill.” 

Before he can ask the next question, she simply states. “Clean.”

“It is still inadvisable to--”

“Grown-ass woman,” she reminds him.

Alex wraps her legs around him and pulls Strand closer. She lines up his cock with her entrance and there's no denying her. He pushes into her, slowly, until he can go no further.

He takes a shuddering breath. 

While he’s at it, he’ll add the divine chapel of Alex Reagan’s tight, wet heat to his new pantheon. He could spend hours in supplication here, on his knees or wrapped in the sheets of his bed.

Alex leans back on the counter as he starts to move, her legs still wrapped around him. He thrusts into her until he finds a rhythm and angle that leaves her moaning. It's been much too long for him and he knows that it’ll all be over embarrassingly fast. He does what he can to hold on, to make it last, to make it good for her. 

Reaching down between them, he thumbs at her clit again, rewarded when she scrabbles for purchase when her arms can no longer hold her up.

“Shit,” she says. “Fuck.”

He’s close, so close, but thankfully she's closer. She shudders around him, head thrown back as she reaches her climax for the second time.

He pulls out just before his own release, and even while she rides the last waves of her pleasure, she takes his cock in her hand again, jerking him hard and quick until, at last, his orgasm hits him. He groans, spilling himself all over her hand and thigh. 

It takes him a long time to come back to himself. When he does, Alex’s fingers are carding through his sweat-soaked hair. She's righted her underwear and cleaned herself off, having utilized the nearest sink.

“So much for your shower,” she says, smiling.

Strand laughs. “Perhaps you would like to join me for another?”

Alex’s eyes light up. He helps her down from the counter and lets her lead him back into the shower stall, closing the curtain behind them. 

It’s a long time before they make it back to the Institute. 

**Author's Note:**

> Please be gentle. This was my first time sinning from a man's perspective. Hopefully, it wasn't too terrible. :D


End file.
